


it's alright, it's okay

by brushesofsage



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Varian and the Seven Kingdoms
Genre: BUT LOTS OF HUGS, Catharsis, Everyone tries to help, Gen, Hugo has issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Platonic Bonding, Platonic Relationships, Self-Esteem Issues, and mostly end up crying, but with a happy and bittersweet resolution, everyone is found family here, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brushesofsage/pseuds/brushesofsage
Summary: It’s far too easy, Hugo realizes, to silently bury your feelings when your standing with others is precarious enough as it is. Far too easy, in turn, to slip underneath a faded blanket at night and weep inside without a sound.It’s not as if he hasn’t done that his entire life already.-Or rather, Hugo continues to break down post-redemption and everyone else is there to remind him of who he is.
Relationships: Hugo & Nuru & Varian & Yong (Disney: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 52





	it's alright, it's okay

**Author's Note:**

> title from "It's Alright" by Mother Mother

-

It’s far too easy, Hugo realizes, to silently bury your feelings when your standing with others is precarious enough as it is. Far too easy, in turn, to slip underneath a faded blanket at night and weep inside without a sound. 

It’s not as if he _hasn’t_ done that his entire life already.

He’s taken back with hesitance. After all, he’d betrayed them, sold them out, had inadvertently gotten them hurt _or worse_ \- why _should_ they welcome him back? But guilt had overtaken him and the running thoughts of _never meant for this to happen_ having been the only thing that distracted him from the pain - and that had also been what kept his hand from shaking when he’d held the key out to them, eyes averted. They hadn’t left him then.

Now though… 

Every waking moment, every glance and every fleeting touch leaves him reeling in confusion and fear. His senses are on constant alert, far more than they’ve ever been with _her_ , and every second, every movement, every action, every word he says, is just a step away from making another mistake. They can always leave him behind, come up with any simple excuse to justify pushing him away, throwing him back to the wolves, back to _her_ . But they don’t and he doesn’t _know why_ \- for all he knows, he’s just a step away. Another step from losing it all again. Another step from...

_“Come with us.”_

_“We’re not leaving you.”_

_“You don’t deserve this.”_

But he did. And he does. How could he not? He’s let down in more ways than one, acted out of fear and had simply watched as people who had trusted him - _idiots_ , why would they? - stared back with such disappointed eyes when the inevitable came. He’s ruined any chance of redeeming himself to them. Of redeeming himself to _her_. 

_Selfish boy_ , the voice in his head murmurs and he curls over himself, his arms hugging his chest. His breath comes out in puffs but he refuses to bring the blanket any closer. He stays there, still, for what seems like an eternity, picking up the faint forest sounds and scattered breathing from the rest of the camp. 

_Peaceful_ , the lot of them. How _could_ they sleep so peacefully, _rest_ so calmly, when here he lays, so painfully _awake_ and aware of how everything could go so, so wrong in a mere moment’s glance? Was it so wrong to ask for, plead even, for one night, one where his scattering thoughts did not leave him questioning, did not leave him spiraling endlessly between _what have I done, did I do it right, what else could I have done…_

**_I, I, I._ **

The moon shines through the makeshift tent from where it hangs alone in the sky, and for a moment he thinks that, maybe, the voice is right. Yong is twelve and surely traumatized by now. Nuru shoulders the weight of her entire _kingdom’s_ safety with each step she takes. And Varian, well…

He’s been through hell. And Hugo’s all but contributed to it. So why, then, should Hugo complain? What right has he to ask for something more? Assurance, validation, love, anything? (Is that what he truly wants anyway? Or is it some rationalization to cover up something far worse? How could he want something he’s never understood?) 

_Selfish boy_. 

Maybe that’s why then. Why he’s destined to continually screw up. Destined to continually fail. Destined to learn how to care and destined to let those he’s finally loved down. 

That he’s meant to drift away. 

Because someone like him simply couldn’t be worth staying for. Couldn’t be worth reaching out for. Someone who takes so much without giving back. 

Maybe it’d be better 

off 

if 

he

just

-

He calls Yong _‘darling’_ and it’s like a jolt of lightning that shocks the tips of his fingers resting on the boy’s shoulder up his arm and he drops away, the rest of his sentence dried up in his throat. The twelve - now thirteen - year old continues his spiel with his usual animated vigor as Hugo’s heart misses a beat and memories - _unwanted, unneeded, unmasked_ memories - seep through 

_“Well darling, you just had to make things more_ difficult _.”_

and

_“Darling, all you have to do is listen.”_

then

_“Don’t think that you can run from this, darling.”_

all of a sudden

_“Oh darling, I’m proud of you.”_

there’s a sharp pang in his chest and he immediately cradles his hand closer to his body - his now tainted hand, _not her hand_ \- to keep away from Yong, away from him…

And there are words and questioning inflections around him and he wants to curl away because he is just like her isn’t he? Having a show of affection, as surface-laid as possible, just enough to please, just enough to pass, just enough to lure into a false sense of security - for _who_ , he wonders, for **_who?_ ** \- and reel in what he wants from people. _Taking, always taking_ . He cannot change, because he’s _bad-_

And his breath leaves him in a crushing grip. For a second he’s ready to accept it - she is coming, there's no stopping it, just accept it and _stop breathing_ \- but awareness and the smell of smoke brings him back. Letting him know that it’s _not_ an attack, it’s _not_ a well-justified punishment, it’s _not_ the reprimand he was looking for. 

It’s a hug, an honest-to-earth hug, with the arms and the weight and the… the...

“Yong?” he manages to choke out, an almost shrill, strangled sound that’s able to say more than he can. It’s a hug, an _actual_ hug, and seconds pass but there’s no hidden intent, no _other_ motive or move to shock, to harm, so why-

“Sorry,” the boy murmurs, voice muffled through folds of clothing. “You looked like you needed it.” 

Hugo releases his breath slowly, gradually letting himself fall as limp as his body allows, but still doesn’t return it. His hands are held high, his upper body leans away, but this feels… nice. 

Hesitantly, he feels himself uncoiling, not completely losing the tension in his shoulders, but it was enough that Yong takes it as leave to press against him for a moment longer before pulling away, noting Hugo’s discomfort. 

(But only seconds later does he find himself missing the touch).

Young eyes meet his and there’s this expression he’s seen so many times but never so strongly and never directed towards him. Not like this. It practically _exudes_ concern and genuine care and he can feel himself almost _relaxed_ , his worries and thoughts picked at and slowly unraveling, bit by bit until it is just now, in the present. Just the two of them. 

The voice is still there as Yong searches his face but for once, Hugo has the courage to brush it aside, just for a moment.

“No, no,” he stammers out, his voice still soft and shaken and he gradually lets his hands fall back, fall back to rest on his shoulders - surprised that nothing else came of it. “It was… nice.” And this time, it wasn’t a lie. 

The boy’s eyes light up and immediately races forward at Hugo’s invitation, who releases an _omph_ as arms wrap around his stomach, squeezing tightly as if refusing to let him go. 

_No, to anchor him._

And if Hugo lets his own arms fold over to return it, Yong says nothing of it. 

(His are rough, enthusiastic, but warm, carrying just the right amount of pressure that borders on smothering but allows him to sink into an almost blissful state. 

_‘You look like you need this,’_ he says and his voice is caught.

Although the ghost of a smile crosses his face).

-

He trips and drops a case of fragile porcelains and he instantly freezes over. Once, he would’ve been able to pass it off with a witty remark, fork over a few bribing coins, and be on his merry way before the backlash caught up to him. 

But this was _Nuru’s_ dignitary collection, one she had brought along should the need for money arise, and one wrong move on his part has destroyed that opportunity forever. 

_Way to go._

There’s no sound, no gasp or angered yell his way. No swift kick or pull dragging him down. But it’s coming, isn’t it? In the end, it always comes in some way or another…

And he realizes his hands are shaking when a careful touch gently tugs the box out of his grasp, laying it on the ground before calmly resting itself over his own. The effect is instantaneous - his knees buckle and land hard onto the ground, his breathing sounding far too harsh in his ears, and the blood pounds in the migraine in his head. He winces at the sound of crunching shards beneath his boots but while _she_ is not here, the voice he hears is _hers_.

_“Look at what you’ve done.”_

It’s not-

_“Ruining it for everyone, are we now?”_

It wasn’t- 

_“Clean it up, it’s your mess after all.”_

“Hugo.” His head jerks up to meet dark eyes, ones that meet him with a more serious concern as they flicker back and forth. He’s more aware of her hand over his but he can’t move away, can’t look away from her, but she continues, “Are you alright?” 

His mouth opens and closes but he feels the lump lodged in his throat and he can’t say anything, not without a dam bursting and falling apart. He swallows thickly, his eyes finally darting away, and Nuru gives a hum, as if she understands. 

There are more words said but Hugo doesn’t hear. He could only see downward, beyond the ground, beyond the two of them, towards the scattered pieces dotting the grass. All of them shattered, none of them salvageable. His chest tightens as the voice races through his thoughts again and his fingers dig into his legs. Blue and white reflect from the dirt and all he sees are the broken fragments. Broken porcelain. Broken chances. Broken trust-

Fingers stroke the back of his hand in soothing circles and tension runs out of his shoulders. He comes back to himself just enough to feel the touch give way slightly and Nuru’s soft voice whispers, “Is it alright if I…?” 

Almost imperceptible fingertips touch his shoulders and he stiffens instinctively. She pulls away, but he glances up at her again. _No, no, she’s…_

Memories of arguments, heated exchanges, of the lording and betrayal collide, all a sweltering pool of shame and guilt. And yet also memories of grief, of tears and confessions, and gradual understanding follow. Acceptance. 

_She’s safe._

His breathing hitches but he nods. Once. And once is enough as he lets his head fall onto her shoulder.

(Hers are light and hesitant, almost fluttering, because of course Princesses aren’t supposed to hug commoners like him but _she_ does and the mere action is near unfathomable in his mind. 

_‘We can fix this,’_ she says and it’s _stupid_ because glue does not make porcelain marketable again and-

_Oh_ , he realizes, blinking away the stinging in his eyes. That’s not what she means).

-

It’s a terrible thing, _wanting_. 

He’s learned time and time again that it can only lead to exploitation and misery. _She_ had taught him so. Wanting is selfish, wanting is bad. You use what you’re given and you’re grateful for what you have. After all he’s been provided for...

_How dare you ask for more._

And yet he can’t help _but_ long. 

He sits by the bank of the river, never turning away from the water slowly trickling downstream. Sleep was no longer an option and had thus been furloughed. The moon shines bright overhead as he absentmindedly rotates pebbles in his palm, shivering as a gust of wind blows by. 

He regrets not bringing the blanket but makes no move to return to the camp. It’s better off like this anyway. 

He sits there for what seems like an eternity, lost in his thoughts, and doesn’t notice the crunching of leaves and skidding of stones until Varian settles down next to him. He doesn’t say anything, just leans against the log behind them and offers an extra blanket he’s brought along. Hugo blinks in surprise but hesitantly accepts it and wraps it around himself. 

Silence stretches between the two of them but Hugo is grateful for that. He doesn’t believe he’d be able to muster up the energy to respond to any questions or even carry a conversation should it arise. He keeps his eyes on the stream, the clacking of stones the only thing that breaks through the quiet. 

It’s only moments later that Varian begins to lull, gradually leaning against Hugo’s arm as sleep seems to overwhelm him, and Hugo resists the urge to sigh, fondly, because of course this had to have been Varian’s plan all along, and debates on whether or not to leave him out here - although _this,_ soft and peaceful pressure _…_ this feels _nice_.

It doesn’t prepare him for what he hears next.

“I love you,” murmurs the boy sleepily. “Never say it enough to you guys, but I do.”

Normally, he would snort, letting out a laugh before tussling the dark hair with a tease - to quote a phrase so often used in fairytales, Varian had always been such a _sap_ …

But now? Hugo glances down with his eyes wide, mouth open in disbelief as the words cross his mind again. He might as well be speaking Nesdernian for how foreign the words suddenly sound, how out of place they feel, how ridiculous and ludicrous it was to-

He shakes his head and laughs, a shaky and breathless exhale, as his fingers curl into his palms because _of course he’s lost it now…_

Varian pulls away, jostled awake by the sound, and turns red to the tips of his ears as if he thought Hugo was making fun of him. He opens his mouth, but instead of the usual protests, Varian’s voice is sincere. 

“Rapunzel’s idea,” he mumbles, and Hugo has a vague recollection of the Princess from Varian’s stories and varying drawings. _The one who helped him_. The boy inhales with a halfhearted gesture. “I’ve never really been good at expressing myself and my feelings, at least before I got my dad back. I just buried them or pushed them aside to deal with later and well…” He gives a hollow chuckle. “That turned out well.” 

Hugo stares back, not knowing what to say. Of course he knows the story by now, but as to _why_ he is telling him this… Varian rubs the back of his neck and glances back up at him. 

“I’ve been trying to, well, _not_ do that again. Trying to say how I’m doing, trying to tell people how I really feel. Telling the people I care about how I feel about them. Because sometimes you just need to let them know that you love them, that you still want them here.” Hugo nods.

“Well, they’re very lucky indeed.” And he means it. He’s seen how Varian so freely gives compliments, slight touches, smiles all around, even though it seems deliberate and thought out most of the time. But he’s seen how Yong readily embraces those words, how taken aback Nuru is but graciously accepts it. And he could only imagine how the others back in Corona received them. And he can never understand how so openly and freely they all seem to reciprocate and mesh together… 

A playful nudge to his shoulder snaps him out of his thoughts.

“I’m talking about you too, you idiot. I care about you.” 

_I care about you._

He blinks.

“Why?” He doesn’t mean to say it out loud but by the way Varian’s brows furrow, he has and he winces, the voice clawing again at his ears, but the damage is done. Might as well let himself fall further. 

“How could you?” he continues, his voice just barely above a whisper, just barely held together. He thinks back to the _after_ . To all of the soft, careful words, to all of the small and gradual smiles, to all of the patient interactions and _embraces…_ and then glances down at his hands. “How could any of you? After what I’ve done?”

_After what I am?_

Varian doesn’t respond, not right away, and Hugo shifts uncomfortably. There is so much he wants to say, so much he wants to counter, so much he wants to confess - the how’s, the why’s, the sheer disbelief that anyone could care for him, _love_ him even, and _say_ it so _casually-_

But he can’t. The words stick to his throat. For a moment though, a glimmer of hope flutters in his chest that maybe, just maybe, the voice is wrong, that _she_ is wrong, and that it _could_ be possible, that anything is possible and he just wants it to be true…

_“I had such hopes for you.”_

But who could love a disappointment like himself? 

“I know what you feel,” Varian says at last and it’s all Hugo could do to keep from flinching. “Not everything, there’s still so much I don’t understand, and I probably will _never_ understand, and I’m not gonna make you say anything, but…” His mouth forms a thin line before turning up slightly. 

“I know you, Hugo. Behind all the walls and masks you use. You care, Hugo. You care so much that it hurts to admit. You’re _sensitive_ and _kind_ and you worry about the well-being of others, about _us_ , even though you try not to show it. You see things in such a different light and contribute _so much._ You treasure little things and find wonder in them as well and it’s incredible. You put yourself in front of danger for us even though it’s _stupid_ because you care. Because you love. You want to love but it hurts to share because you don’t want to get hurt in return. You prefer to build something up because you’ve only ever seen burnt bridges. And you’re- you’re hanging by a thread and yet to continue to throw to rope down to others. You’re _different_ , and _sincere_ , and _brilliant…_ ”

Varian shifts. “Yeah, there've been rocky first impressions and you do get annoying sometimes,” - a small grin - “But don’t you see, Hugo? You _give_ so much of yourself. You’ve _done_ so much for us.”

_“Hugo, can you help me fix this modulator? I think some of the springs aren’t aligned.”_

Yong.

_Come with us._

He’s needed.

_“Quartz crystal. It’s not much, but it’s clear enough to provide the prism you need. And it supposedly helps, in general, but I’m not quite so sure about that yet.”_

Nuru.

_We’re not leaving you behind._

He’s wanted. 

“And Hugo…” Varian continues, unaware of his breathing picking up, “whatever she’s said to you, whatever penance you think you have to keep serving… please believe me that _you don’t deserve this.”_

Varian _._

_I don’t deserve this._

He turns to look at him, and the moon glistens in his view. “You’re worth saving, Hugo. Every single part of you, no matter how small, no matter how broken. And whatever happens, whatever you’re going through, we’ll be there for you, I promise. Each and every one of us. Together.” 

_Together._

And 

Hugo

couldn’t 

He can’t-

His glasses are off. His lips quiver as he trembles underneath his hands. He doesn’t make a sound but the tears continue to collect like dew beneath him. His knees curl to his chest and he wants to hide, to disappear, because how, _how_ , **_how_ ** can something so simple as words strung so perfectly together affect him like this? How can the mere action of fingers circling his back so comfortingly cause such a dissonance between _her_ voice and _his_ voice and this overwhelming feeling of emotion that kept threatening to spill over? 

He’s enveloped in an embrace and the first sob is heard.

_“How?”_ he cries, the word now a mantra because all other words are useless. But Varian seems to understand, seems to see through the maelstrom of confusion he’s wading through. So he just holds him as he rocks and weeps into the fabric of the blankets. 

(And his are firm, holding the weight of a thousand pasts, but strong in the way ironwood continues to grow. For a moment, here, he allows his walls to fall. He allows himself, his real self, to _feel_ . And, for the first time in his life, he lets himself feel _protected_.

_“Because that’s what love does,”_ he says. _“There’s no reason behind it. You don’t think about it. You just love because you can. And we love you because we want to.”_

Hugo cries harder than he’s ever felt in his life. The voice is still there but far more silent as he takes in the touch around him. Rather than feeling cornered and threatened, he feels… safe. Understood. Cared for. **_Loved_ **.

_This is nice._

And if two more bodies end up tangled in the sleeping pile during the night to wake up to in the morning, no one says a word).

**Author's Note:**

> This story had originally meant to be a vent fic for myself, purely self indulgent, as I procrastinated and projected, instead, into Hugo - but then it turned out to be some subconscious pick me up instead to remind myself that even with everything going on, despite every irrational thing I'm feeling, I'm still someone of worth. Who just needs hugs right now. Hence the fic, heh. 
> 
> And I guess I figured, why not share this instead? More reading material to enjoy and who knows, someone might take something away from this too.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, stay safe, and remember that you're loved :)


End file.
